


I Do

by Miicah



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Be gentle, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e22 Infantino Street, F/M, it's my first time writing smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miicah/pseuds/Miicah
Summary: If she could have just one thing if she died, it was for the name on her tombstone to read ‘Iris Ann West-Allen’.(An extension of the opening scene of 3x22.)





	I Do

**Author's Note:**

> How're you holding up Flashfam? Are you like me and torturing yourself watching that ending scene and just crying a river? I still can't get over how Candice nailed that "...until death do us part," line, KILLS ME EVERY TIME.
> 
> So, of course, I was inspired to write this. (Also, Grant muttering 'caviar' when he climbs out of bed cracks me up every time, too.) It's got some angst of course, some fluff, AND MY FIRST EVER SMUT SCENE. It sucks, I know, be gentle.
> 
> Un-beta'd as always!
> 
> Inspired by [this](https://westallen94.tumblr.com/post/160754272103/i-need-someone-to-write-a-fanfic-with-barry) post that I saw on tumblr!

86400 seconds.

1440 minutes.

No matter how many different ways you could say it to make it sound like it was more than what it was, it didn’t change the fact that Iris West only had twenty-four hours left to live. Potentially.

…She couldn’t sleep.

No, that wasn’t right. Tracy, H.R., Felicity, Cisco, Joe, Wally, Barry… _they_ couldn’t sleep. Whether it was out of fear, worry, determination, desperation, they were all burning the midnight oil—quite literally—for her, because of her, maybe even a little bit for themselves.

But Iris…she _didn’t want_ to sleep. If this was going to be her final day on this earth, she didn’t want to waste a moment of it in a dream world, lying figuratively, prematurely, dead to everyone around her. _I can sleep when I’m dead._ That’s what people said, right?

She smiled a little on the inside at that. The others always balked when she was able to speak so easily about the possibility of her dying, and while a huge part of her would forever be hopeful and _sure_ that Barry would save her, there was also a part of her that was practical, that _had_ to think of that tiny chance that Savitar might win—at no fault of Barry’s, she wished he understood that she would never blame him, _ever_ —and plan for that outcome.

Iris would never forgive herself if she was so careless—carefree?—as to leave them with nothing in her wake.

It had been relatively easy to come up with something for her dad, and her brother, and the others, but she had struggled to think of a way to ease Barry’s suffering, especially when she had asked him to do so much for everyone else.

It wasn’t until Barry had lost his memories that it had hit her. Even though he only knew of her what she had told him, Barry was still so excited about their wedding when he didn’t have the entire world on his shoulders to think of first, speaking of plans she didn’t have time to think of herself, wouldn’t allow herself to think of in case the unthinkable happened.

Then again, marrying her was all he had ever wanted, all she ever wanted, and that was what she wanted to give him, give herself.

Unfortunately, Iris barely had a moment alone long enough to set everything up, and she was running out of time.

“Iris.”

She knew where Barry’s train of thought was, could guess what he was going to say, and she had to nip that in the bud before he could utter word; Iris didn’t want her (possible) final day to be steeped in melancholy, either.

Her mind worked overtime, and she came up with a plan that killed two birds with one stone. Turning to face Barry, Iris made a pillow out of a bent arm and leaned into it. “You know what I’d love right now?”

Curiosity peaked, Barry mimicked her actions, ever eager and ready to lay the world at her feet if she would just ask for it—especially now. “Anything you want.”

It had to be something even he would have trouble getting her for her plan to work. “Caviar.”

That was _not_ what he was expecting. Barry lifted his head off his pillow as if it had blocked hearing into one ear. He couldn’t have heard her right. “Caviar?” he repeated, pushing himself up onto an elbow to look squarely at her.

“Mm-mm.”

Okay, so he _didn’t_ hear wrong. “Okay, well, it’s a little late so it might be hard for me to find a place that’s open that has it…” Barry trailed off as she used The Pout **TM** out on him, looking up at him with huge doe eyes to seal the deal. He wasn’t trying to make excuses, honestly, but that look had always been and always would be his demise—how could anyone ever say no to that face? With a small, helpless sigh, he finished with, “…But I’ll find an assortment,” smiling.

“Thank you,” Iris smiled back, pleased.

“…Just stay with me, okay? The whole team’s working on this.” At her nod, he continued. “We can accomplish a lot in twenty-four hours.”

“I know we can,” she said sincerely, because she _knew_ it was true. She had witnessed them do a lot of amazing feats in even less time than that first hand. That wasn’t the problem. Knowing he was trying to reassure her, thinking she was acting out of fear and not at peace about what could happen—though perhaps he did think that, and knew that that was worse—Iris reached a hand out to squeeze his arm, trying to reassure _him_. She didn’t want him feeling this way for the rest of their time together. “I’m fine, Barry. Really.”

He stared at her for a moment before he smiled once more, trusting her, before leaning in to give her a chaste kiss. “Caviar,” he muttered to himself, still in disbelief, as he pulled himself out from beneath the covers, and she couldn’t help but grin at the remark—it was little moments like these that she would miss. Iris could almost imagine a scenario much like this one, where she had insane cravings like this that she would blame on the little life they created within her…

…And her smile faded at the thought that he, that she, that _they_ , might never get to experience that. She was grateful for the brief moment he had his back towards her so that he couldn’t see her expression, and she steeled herself just as he turned.

With one last glance at Iris, Barry grabbed his watch—they were all constantly checking the check, racing against time, he didn’t want to be away from her any longer than necessary—before he disappeared in a flash of red lightning.

The bedroom door hit the wall in Barry’s haste, and Iris slowly sat up as she eyed the doorway, wanting to be positively sure that he was gone and wasn’t going to suddenly come back. Confident that she had some time before he returned, she crawled over to his side of the bed and grabbed his phone.

Barry never left his phone locked at home—she could never figure out of it was because he had nothing to hide from her or because he knew she’d know his password anyway—and she thumbed through his screens, searching for the video mode. Turning it on and getting a look at herself, Iris fixed her hair—this had to be _perfect_ , or as perfect as it could be in her PJs at midnight—and put on a smile, having to try a few times before it was genuinely happy and not a ghost of one.

Once she was ready, she hit record.

“Hi Barry. Um…” It wasn’t often that she was speechless. No, that wasn’t true—Barry was constantly leaving her without words, and she actually way _too_ much to say. It was just a matter of picking out the right ones at this exact moment.

“There’s something that I need to say to you. I love you. And…if something happens, I need you to hear this.” Iris took a deep breath and straightened. “I, Iris Ann West, take you, Bartholomew Henry Allen—” She had to beam brightly here, because he hated his name, but she loved it, loved it, loved _him_ —

“—to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness…and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

The last few words were a whisper that tampered off into nothing, like it left her breathless—because it was for those words, that reason, that she had to do this at all—and she could no longer see the screen because her eyes were now filled with tears. Iris stopped the recording then, as it wouldn’t do for him to see her break down the last time he might ever see her again, and she hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms.

If she could have just one thing if she died, it was for the name on her tombstone to read ‘Iris Ann West _-Allen_ ’.

She was wrong—hyphenating was a 2017 thing.

It took a few shuddering breaths and several minutes before she unfurled herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks—how ironic would it have been to avoid Barry seeing her like on a screen just for him to see her like this in person instead? Placing his phone back on his nightstand, Iris shimmied back to her side of the bed just as Barry came racing back in.

Brushing her blown hair out of her face, she looked incredulously up at him and the tray that he had in his hand that he most certainly prepared in the kitchen before coming up. How did he find a store open that sold caviar in Central City?

“So…it’s daytime in Europe,” Barry said in short spurts as he tried to catch his breath, unknowingly answering her unspoken question as he held a tray that had the caviar and some crackers on it out towards her before climbing into bed with her once more.

“Euro—” See, here was yet another moment Barry Allen left her speechless. “Barry, you didn’t have to run _halfway across the world_ to get me caviar.”

“I would do anything for you.” He had said it so matter-of-factly, and though it wasn’t the first (or last time) she heard him say those words it never ceased to amaze her. “Also, though I’m 99.9% sure I’m going to hate it, I’m _really_ hungry.”

Iris laughed a little wetly before reaching an arm towards him, silently beckoning him closer to her which he did without further prompting. “Well then, let’s dig in, shall we?”

After distributing the included spoons—there were apparently special spoons just for caviar—and removing the lid from all the jars, they both spread some on some crackers and took their first bite of the exotic delicacy.

And froze.

“It’s—” Iris paused to cough, holding the side of the fist that held the spoon to her mouth—to keep the food in or to prevent throwing up was unclear—before swallowing. “—definitely an acquired taste.”

Barry nodded in agreement, knowing that if he opened his mouth it wouldn’t be words that came spewing out. “That’s one way of putting it,” he eventually managed to say, and they both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Okay, neither of us is surprised by this outcome, so I have to ask: _why_ caviar?”

Iris’ smile dimmed somewhat—she couldn’t say the whole truth, and she knew that if she said she wanted to try it ‘before she died’ it would _not_ go well, so she settled with something that wasn’t a lie, at least not at some point since their engagement, no matter how fleeting the thought was. “Just thinking of food we could serve at our reception. I’ve seen it done before and thought we could try it, at least just once for the hell of it, right? See what all the fuss is about.”

An expression Iris couldn’t quite name came across Barry’s face, and she reached out to grab his hand in worry, squeezing it. “Bear? What’s wron—”

She didn’t get to finish her question before Barry had leaned in and kissed her, lifting his free hand to cup her cheek and deepen it. When air became a necessity he pulled away, but not farther than a couple inches, opting to give her a couple of Eskimo kisses instead. “We never got the chance to talk about our wedding with everything…” Barry trailed off, the reason why obvious. “I just didn’t think…”

“Hey, I told you before: I want to marry you just as much as you want to marry me. One way or another, it’s gonna happen,” Iris promised, trying not to think of the video she had just recorded and hoped Barry never had to see it because they _were_ going to have a wedding.

Barry grinned so brightly that for a moment it was as if everything that had been weighing him down, them down, had disappeared just as it had when he had no recollection of anything. With renewed vigour Barry kissed her once more, saying in between pecks, “So, no caviar at the reception, right?”

“That is a hard no,” Iris agreed, also between kisses, and she blindly moved to place her half-eaten, cracker spread caviar down at the same time Barry tried to rid himself of his own without breaking apart from one another, even as Iris leaned back down on the bed as Barry followed her descent, moving himself in between her legs once they had moved the tray out of the way.

“Make love to me,” Iris whispered, wanting to be with him just one more time, just in case, and Barry paused because she never had to request that of him. Before he could spiral into the endless rabbit hole of _why now_ , she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down towards her, locking their lips together once more, and he figured it didn’t matter _why_ because he would always do whatever she asked of him.

Barry scooted just far enough back to give him room to slip his hands on her shoulders beneath her soft pink cardigan, slipping the article of clothing off only to let out a groan when there was still an off-white nightdress in his way. “You know, you wear far too many layers to bed, Miss West,” Barry murmured as his hands moved to lightly skim the outside of her thighs, taking the hem of the dress with them as they moved back up her body.

“Well, not everyone can vibrate themselves for warmth, and that’s Future Mrs. West-Allen, Bartholomew,” Iris amended him, biting the corner of her bottom in anticipation as she lifted her arms so he can take her nightgown off.

His heart swelled at the correction, knowing his full first name meant that he did indeed do wrong, and he threw the gown in the direction he had put the cardigan. “Good thing you know someone who can help you out with that,” Barry said, running a finger up and down her panty-covered slit and vibrating it until he felt wetness against the pad of his finger just to make his point.

Iris bit down harder on her lip, trying to suppress her moans, and Barry shook his head playfully, leaning forward to kiss the inside of her left breast without letting up with the hand between her legs. “Don’t deny me your voice,” he now requested of her, and Iris instantly released her lip, willing and wanting to give Barry everything he wanted just as he did for her, her sounds seeming to echo in the room.

Pleased with her compliance, he removed his hand from where it had been teasing her—and Iris made her annoyance known—sliding her underwear down her smooth legs to her ankles without removing them. Instead, he ducked his head beneath them as he gently lifted her legs by the back of her calves and rested them on his shoulders.

Iris, ever quick to follow his train of thought, flicked her ankle until her undergarment went flying before settling back, watching Barry watch her as he always did when he undressed her before they had sex.

It had made her so self-conscious the first time he had done it, wondering if there was something wrong with her body to make him stare at her so. But Barry had been quick to reassure her, telling her that he looked simply because he couldn’t believe his eyes; that it was really happening. He had never seen anything so breathtakingly exquisite, and never would he again anywhere else, and so he always took a moment to cherish it, like it was the first and last time he’d ever be in that position again.

And, well, Iris was anything but insecure after that. In fact, she started to follow his routine, taking in the sight of him in all his glory, except now—

“Now who has too many clothes on?” Iris asked him accusingly, lowering her legs on either side of him as she crouched up to a sitting position and tugged his S.T.A.R. Labs shirt up, kissing every expanse of skin that was exposed to her as she did so.

One day she will map all the freckles that covered his body.

Tossing the shirt aside, her hands now reached between _his_ legs, and Barry let out a low groan as Iris stroked his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. God, he could really fill out a pair of sweats. With Barry a little weak in the knees due to her ministrations, coupled with the self-defense moves her dad had taught her when she was little and her short stint as a high school cheerleader, Iris rolled them over so that it was Barry who was on his back now.

Without wasting a minute, Iris made quick work of his pants, tossing them over her shoulder before returning her attention to his growing hardness that was bulging against the last piece of clothing that separated them. “Now that won’t do…” she hummed softly, and Barry barely heard her over his panting as he watched her grip the top of his boxers with her teeth and drag down.

Her hands took over removing his underwear once she uncovered him, putting her mouth to better use on him than on cloth. Barry double-fisted the bed sheets, trying real hard—pun not intended—not to phase straight through to the living room below. He was fully erect now, and if Iris didn’t stop soon Barry was going to finish _in a flash_ in record time that it’d make a teenage boy look like he lasted a marathon.

It almost physically pained him to do it, but—“Iris, _Iris_ , stop,” he said as firmly as he could. She did so without fail, her lips releasing him with an almost deafening _pop_ —or was that just to him?—and though she didn’t saying anything her raised eyebrows said it all. _Really?_

“This…is supposed…to be about…you,” Barry said between breaths, and before she could say anything he had her on her back once more. “And I never break my promises,” he finished, smirking down at her. Taking a breast in each hand, Barry began to vibrate them, causing Iris to sudden jerk at the jolt the sudden stimulation sent to her core. He kneaded the flesh, eventually moving to roll each of her nipples in between his thumb and index finger.

Iris arched against him, letting out a long throaty gasp—she always did have sensitive nipples—and the movement exposed her neck to him. Barry zeroed in on it, having the sudden animalistic urge to leave his mark on Iris so that everyone— _Savitar_ —would know that she was his like he was hers and nothing and no one was going to take her away from him.

Succumbing to the impulse, Barry leaned forward and latched onto her neck with his mouth, alternating between kissing and sucking and tonguing at the skin there while his hands continued to work their magic. As if knowing what he was doing, Iris tilted her head to the side to give him more access even as she squirmed, clutching at his back in an attempt to find some purchase through the haze of pleasure. Barry knew his back was going to go through a cycle of having red marks drug up and down them before healing and starting all over again.

“Barry,” Iris warned him, and he knew that was his cue. He removed a hand and Iris mourned the loss, only to moan anew as Barry placed it back between her legs where it had started at the beginning of all this, only now without the barrier of fabric to hinder them. Not only that, but she was slicker now than she was then, and his finger easily slipped inside as he began to prepare her for something much larger.

As he did so, he searched for that one spot that would ensure Iris would see entire constellations behind her eyes, and Barry knew he found it when she cried out loudly, her bent knees squeezing into his sides. He continued to put pressure there as his fingers continued their in and out rhythm, teasing her painstakingly slowly closer to the edge.

Iris knew he was doing it on purpose, for it wasn’t the first time he’d done this to her. “For the fastest man alive, you sure are taking your sweet time with this,” she tried to goad him as she always did when he tormented her like this.

And Barry smiled against her skin as he always did in response. “Some things are worth taking your time with,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her shudder against him, and he pulled away to see her expression soften as she reached out to cup his face, her thumb stroking against his cheek. “Ready?”

She nodded, and as he moved to get a condom Iris grabbed his arm, stopping him. “No. You…I want to feel _you_ this time.” They held each other’s gaze, knowing this was a huge step for them—they had always practiced safe sex to the point that Barry always had a couple in his wallet because you just never knew—but he was willing to take the plunge if she was.

Giving her a nod of his own, Barry lined himself up before pushing into her, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed. Iris took a moment to let out a deep breath once their hips were flush together, feeling complete in a way she only could with him, and Barry could relate to the sensation she was experiencing for he felt it, too.

Eventually Iris locked her ankles together behind his back and Barry knew that was her silent way of telling him to move, so he did, his thrusts starting out shallow before deepening as time passed.

“Harder,” Iris begged in a voice that turned _her_ on. “Faster.” She wanted to feel him, to know that she was still alive, to imprint the moment into her memory forever. As soon as she said it Barry granted her request, going hard enough that he was almost afraid he’d hurt her, so fast—but still taking care that he pulled out only until his tip was still encased and pushed in deep enough to sit fully inside her—that the bed slammed against the back wall. If he upped the intensity to either category any higher Barry was sure he’d have to learn how to plaster to fix the cracks in the wall because that was _not_ covered in their lease for sure.

“Barry, Barry, Barry,” Iris repeated in a constant mantra as if it was the only word she was coherent enough to remember. “I’m…so… _close_.”

“Iris,” Barry dragged out before kissing her, their mouths and tongues ravaging each other in a passionate make out session. “Together,” he told her once he pulled his mouth away, meaning more than just going over the peak together, and he once more reached a hand in between them to place a vibrating hand over her clit.

Iris screamed until her voice was hoarse as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, lights exploding behind her eyelids in some small recreation of the Big Bang; Barry would’ve loved the comparison. Barry soon let out his own piercing cry, oddly harmonizing with Iris, as her walls squeezed him tighter and drew him into his own climax.

It was an entirely different experience for them both, releasing into Iris instead of rubber, and it heightened their senses even more. Barry continued to thrust into her until she had milked him dry, straining against his elbows above her until she gently pulled him down against her, burying her face into the side of his sweaty neck. They basked in the afterglow together, breathing heavily until they could somewhat speak.

“Wow,” Iris said once she got her voice back.

“Super wow,” Barry elaborated, and Iris laughed, because how was that more detailed than her account of events? He grinned, knowing what she was thinking, and he kissed her temple before attempting to move so he wasn’t crushing her anymore than he already was. The action reminded the both of them that he hadn’t pulled out of her yet, and they both moaned as Barry twitched within her.

“So…ready for round two?” he asked cheekily, and Iris smacked him lightly.

“Easy there, _Flash_ ,” she replied, eyes twinkling. “Not everyone has your stamina, either.”

Letting out a laugh, Barry slowly removed himself from her, dropping onto his side beside her before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “You’re worth the wait.”

They spent the better part of the early morning hours going through that cycle: laying there together for a while, giggling and sharing pillow talk and refueling on crackers and caviar (mostly the former) before they had more sex.

It wasn’t until the sun had risen for a couple hours that they decided that they _probably_ shouldn’t spend the rest of the day in bed, and they crawled into the shower for one last round as they cleaned themselves off.

Barry was bent over the jacket across his lap from his seat on the ottoman in front of the bed, his phone and the tray of half-empty caviar jars and mostly eaten crackers beside him, tying his shoes when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID for a quick second before answering. “Hey Cisco…” he greeted, pausing as Cisco’s excited voice hit his ears, his own expression brightening the more he heard. “ _What_? Where? All right, I’ll come pick you up,” he said as he literally got to his feet, ready to go.

Iris, who had been standing in front of the mirror beside their bed putting on her coat—which was a lot more complicated than it appeared—turned to face Barry when she heard the eager tone of his voice. “What is it?” she asked as she approached him.

Barry was positively beaming as he turned towards her. “Uh...” He faltered slightly when he recognized the outfit Iris was wearing—he only ever remembered it when a gaping hole through her chest—but he glanced down at his phone and decided it didn't matter; they were going to change the future. “ _Really_ good news. Cisco thinks he might’ve found what we’ve been looking for and Lyla’s got access to it. C’mon, I’ll drop you off at S.T.A.R. Labs before I head out with him to get it.”

Iris smiled, Barry’s energy contagious, and she took one final glance around their bedroom as he put on his jacket before letting herself be led out with Barry’s hand on the small of her back guiding her forward.

There was still hope. It wasn’t over yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Iris isn't dead (I'm one of those who saw that spoiler video lol) but it still cuts deep! Stay strong fam.


End file.
